Room Service
by Alias424
Summary: While in a hotel after a mission, Sydney gets some unexpected room service...
1. Part I

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Title: Room Service  
  
**Author** : Alias424  
  
**Feedback**: Yes, please!

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Archival: Sure, just let me know where.  
  
**Disclaimer**: Alias and its characters aren't mine; I'm just borrowing them for a little while.  
  
**Summary**: While in a hotel after a mission, Sydney gets some unexpected room service...

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Rating: PG-13  
  
**Classification**: Romance

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A/N: This is just a little something that came to me while I was trying not to fall asleep during AP Biology. Enjoy!

Sydney opened the door to her hotel room, and walked inside. Actually, the room wasn't hers, it was registered to Cariel Wagner, a German businesswoman staying overnight on the outskirts of Paris.

She had only completed her mission an hour ago, but already her muscles protested even the slightest movements. She thought she had gotten used to this, she was used to it. To the running, fighting, hiding, beating, falling…Well, maybe that guy beating her up and then throwing her down two flights of stairs had been a bit excessive. Man, had he gotten the crap kicked out of him when she had gotten back up. She winced even as she thought of it, and had been very glad that the hotel had an elevator.

She had stolen the books, the information, whatever the hell this Rambaldi thing was that Sloane wanted. She was too tired to even remember what it was anymore. All she knew was that she had the real copy, Dixon had the CIA fake, and tomorrow, she would be returning to LA to smile at Sloane and bask in the "success" of the mission. Well, the mission had been a success, just not for him. But he didn't need to know that, and she didn't have to think about that tonight.

Now, she only had to be grateful that Sloane hadn't been able to secure them a flight out of France until tomorrow morning. Grateful that the hotel they were staying in was not as sleazy as she thought it was going to be. (She must have translated the French name of the hotel too literally when she thought it read Beds of Love.) Grateful that if she squinted when she looked out her third-story window, she could see the "spectacular view" of the Eiffel Tower that the hotel manager had boasted about. And grateful that Dixon was two floors down and on the opposite side of the hotel if she needed him.

Now, all she needed to worry about was the fact that she could go to sleep and didn't have to be up again for almost six hours. Six hours. It seemed almost too good to be true.

Sighing, Sydney took off her four-inch heels and that sorry excuse for a dress. The slinky red dress that felt at least two sizes too small, barely covered the body parts it was supposed to, and almost made the pimply faced, teenage bellboy forget where the elevator was.

She put on the pair of sweatpants and the tank top that she had packed in her suitcase and set the alarm clock. God, was she tired. She fell asleep almost as soon as she lay her head on the pillow…

Sydney was slowly lulled out of her slumber by a gentle knocking at the door. She opened her eyes, trying to remember where she was. She was reminded when she rolled over to look at the clock, and felt the dull throbbing of her left arm and leg. The mission, the trip down the stairs…France, she was in France.

The red glow of the clock finally registered in her brain as a number, a time. It was midnight. 

She rolled out of bed and rummaged through her suitcase for some Advil. Only when the knocking was repeated, did she remember why she had gotten out of bed in the first place.

"Who is it?" She asked slowly, almost forgetting to speak in French.

"Room service," a male voice answered.

If she hadn't been too tired to remember that she hadn't ordered room service, Sydney might not have opened the door. But she was still half-asleep as she reached for the handle and pulled the door open.

The sudden, bright lights of the hallway blinded her for a moment and she turned her head away from the man at the door. She was waiting for him to talk, to tell her what he was doing there, but he didn't say a word.

"Can I help you?" she asked softly, her head still turned away as her eyes slowly adjusted to the light.

He didn't answer and she was beginning to get angry. When she finally looked up, all her anger melted away.

Sydney's dark eyes widened in shock as they met the deep green eyes of her visitor, and her pulse quickened when she heard him laugh. Without a word, she motioned for him to come inside.

He walked in, and she closed the door and turned on the light.

Vaughn slowly surveyed the room before speaking, "Aren't you going to ask me what I'm doing here?"

Sydney shook her head. She didn't want to hear him tell her that the CIA had sent him, that they were adding something to her counter mission or that there had been a change of plans. She wanted him to be there just because…just because of her.

Vaughn smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed. Sydney remained at the door, fighting the impulse to run into his arms. He seemed so far away.

"I completed the mission successfully," she offered, not sure of what else to say. "I got the…"

"I didn't come to talk about the mission," Vaughn interrupted. "I came because…My God, what happened to your arm?"

Sydney looked to where he was pointing. Her arm was a rainbow of ugly purples and blues, but she had forgotten that it hurt. "Oh…Some guy threw me down the stairs."

"Come here," Vaughn commanded, and her heart skipped a beat as she heard the tone of his voice and saw his forehead wrinkle in concern.

She willingly obeyed and sat down next to him. He took her arm and she shivered at his slight touch.

"You should have put ice on this."

"I know."

"That bastard. I hope you taught him a lesson."

He was running his finger up and down her arm, outlining her bruise, and giving her goosebumps.

Sydney sighed. "You remember how when you got hurt when you were little? Someone would just have to kiss it and say, "All better," and it would be. Don't you wish that really worked?"

"We could try it," Vaughn offered with a smile.

Thinking he was only kidding, Sydney smiled back weakly and then looked away. She shouldn't have brought that up, she shouldn't have said the word "kiss," she shouldn't have…

But then she felt his lips brush against her arm, washing all other thoughts from her head. His touch just enough for her to feel it, light enough so that he wouldn't hurt her. It took her breath away.

He looked up at her. She could see the desire in his eyes as he silently pleaded with her, asking for more.

She leaned toward him and their lips met. She completely lost her ability to think; she could only feel. Feel his hands on her, on her arms, her back, in her hair. Feel his skin under her fingertips, his tongue against her lips, asking for entrance.

She let him in and the kiss exploded.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind for her senses. Taste and smell and touch all mixed and mingled, and soon she even lost track of those. Taste became touch as clothing became scarce and her lips explored his body. Scents and tastes became woven together.

The last moment she distinctly remembered before she was launched into ecstasy, was when he pulled his lips away from her. She was about to protest, about to pull his face back to hers, but when she opened her mouth to speak, he put his fingers to her lips.

"All better," he whispered with a smile, and then his lips came crashing back down on her own…

There was a knocking at the door. Sydney's eyes snapped open and she glanced at the other side of the bed, almost expecting to see Vaughn sleeping there. But she knew he wouldn't be; the blankets were still perfectly tucked under the mattress and the mint still lay unopened on the pillow.

The knocking was repeated. Ignoring the pain in her leg and arm, Sydney jumped out of bed and hurried to answer it. "Who is it?" she asked, the French rolling easily off her tongue.

"Room service," a voice responded.

Sydney had been reaching for the door handle, but paused and gasped when she heard the response. She smiled and quickly opened the door.

Her smile vanished when she found bellboy grinning at her, holding a covered tray.

She opened the door and let him inside. He placed the tray on her nightstand and waited, smiling expectedly. Sydney sighed and handed him some money, which he eagerly took, and then left.

Sydney lifted the cover off the tray. On it was a plate of bacon and eggs, a large cup of coffee, and an envelope.

She picked up the envelope and opened it. Inside, she found a short note in what she recognized as Dixon's handwriting. It read: "Walked by your room, you didn't appear to be up, so took the liberty of ordering your breakfast. Am checking out now. Will meet you at the airport in half an hour."

Sydney sighed, took a bite of the eggs, and a big drink of the coffee. She wished she could go back to sleep, back to her dream. Well, at least she could look forward to her debriefing later. It should be…interesting.

She smiled as she thought about her dream, and then sighed again. There would be time to dream later.

Now, she had other things to worry about. She had to leave the hotel in fifteen minutes, but first she needed to take a shower. A cold shower.

Then she would be on her way to the airport, to LA, and to Vaughn. And there was always the chance, however small, that she would fall asleep on the plane…


	2. Part II

Room Service

Part II

A/N: Hey, remember this? Don't worry, I had to read the first part over too. Well, I finally decided to write more; I hope you enjoy it. 

The flight was long; she was stuck in between Dixon and a man who immediately opened a book as soon as he sat down, so that he wouldn't have to talk to her. Dixon fell asleep almost as soon as the plane took off. Sydney tried to, but she couldn't.

The man reading the book was hogging the armrest, seriously invading her personal space. A pair of twins sat behind her. They had bounced onto the plane complete with matching red overalls, curly blonde hair, and blue eyes magnified by thick, round glasses.

The two not only argued for the entire flight, but the boy constantly kicked at Sydney's seat, even after she had turned around for the fifth time and very politely asked him to stop. His name was Kevin (Kevin Andrew Donaldson to be exact), and his sister's name was Kara Louise. Sydney knew this because their mother was constantly reminding them, very loudly, that they were supposed to be quiet on the plane.

The plane hit turbulence crossing the Atlantic Ocean and a baby started crying. The turbulence lasted for over an hour; the baby cried the entire time. All the bumping and jostling made Kara sick, and she unfortunately was not able to reach her paper bag in time.

Kevin thought this was hysterical, and began cackling gleefully as he attempted to identify exactly what Kara had had for lunch. The flight attendants quickly cleaned up the mess, but they were unable to rid the cabin of the distinct and unpleasant odor of vomit.

Sydney finally put on her headphones and closed her eyes, letting the sweet notes of Bach lull her into a fitful slumber…

She was in the hotel again and there was a knock at her door. She opened it, and Vaughn was there. She beckoned for him, and he started to walk inside.

Suddenly, the walls collapsed and everything became black. An eerie light came from somewhere, and a strong wind pulled at Sydney, forcing her away from Vaughn and to the ground. She reached out to him, helpless; the howling wind pinning her to the ground, whipping her hair dangerously around her face. Vaughn fell forward, trying to reach her.

She heard a sound above the shrieking of the wind; cackling, evil laughter that increased in volume until it reached a feverish, screaming pitch. Two little children appeared, a boy and a girl, almost invisible in the dark. They were dressed in matching black overalls, raven curls dancing in the wind, red eyes gleaming dangerously. The spawn of the devil. They ran around the room, chasing each other in a crazy design of loops and circles in a psychotic game of tag.

Suddenly they stopped and stared at Sydney. Their eyes were glowing a fiery red, their cherry lips curled into malicious grins. They ran over to Vaughn, still sneering.

It became completely dark; she could only see their glowing eyes. There was a flash of lightning and she saw two little hands dart out to touch Vaughn's leg. 

"You're it!" screamed a shrill voice.

The room exploded with light as Vaughn burst into flame. The devil children began their cackling laughter again. Vaughn stared at her sadly; he didn't even scream…

Sydney woke with a start. The music had stopped and she could still hear the laughter. Her heart was pounding in her chest, threatening to break her ribs.

But it was only Kara and Kevin having a giggling contest behind her. Dixon was finally awake and was glancing at her curiously. She gave him a small smile and shrunk back into her seat. She closed her eyes again, but sleep would not come.

The flight lasted for almost twelve hours. Now, she had been on planes for longer periods of time, but this definitely felt like the longest flight Sydney had ever taken. The twins tried to zoom by her on their way off the plane and one of them managed to smack her arm, while the other ran straight into her leg.

Sydney had been attempting to ignore the pain, but now it hit her full force. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut, but couldn't stop a tear from escaping. The twins were standing up, brushing themselves off. Kara put her hands on her hips and stuck her tongue out at Sydney. Kevin noticed the tears and started to laugh.

"You're such a baby!" he chirped. "A big baby!"

Their mother only sighed and shook her head, following the twins as they skipped off the plane. Sydney took a deep breath and closed her eyes. They couldn't see the bruises; they didn't know what it was like to constantly feel pain. They wouldn't be able to take it.

Her arm and leg were throbbing and her head felt like someone was trying to split it open with an axe. She had just unpacked her bag and was lounging on the couch, waiting for the painkillers to kick in, when the phone rang.

Joey's Pizza. Never had two little words held so much promise and meaning.

As soon as she got the call, she jumped into her car and drove as far over the speed limit as she could without really breaking the law. Images from her dream burned before her eyes. She could feel his touch, his hands, his lips; she yearned for it. She could also see his sad eyes, engulfed in flames.

Her car swerved dangerously on the road. Another driver shook his fist at her and yelled something obscene. She didn't care; she had been called a whore in more languages than she dared to count.

Somehow, she made her way to the warehouse without killing herself or anyone else. She parked the car, unbuckled her seatbelt and got out.

Sydney stood outside her car, unsure of what to do. She could not march into the warehouse and throw herself at her Vaughn, no matter how much she wanted to.

Could she even face him? Could she look at him without blushing? Should she even go in there at all? Maybe she could pretend that she hadn't received the call, and go back home. Maybe she could…No, she had to go in there. If they were ever going to take down SD-6 she had to meet with him…eventually.

But she wanted to meet with him; she wanted to talk to him; she wanted to look at him. She also wanted to touch him, kiss him, love him…but that would definitely be against protocol.

Sydney took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was a grown woman; she could do this. She would just walk in there, pretend like nothing had ever changed, tell Vaughn about the mission, hand him the Rambaldi book, and get the hell out of there without doing anything stupid. She could handle it.

Handle. Handler. Vaughn had been given the appropriate title. He could definitely handle her; he had done it so deliciously well …Dammit! Sydney snapped her eyes open and shook her head, forcing every picture, every thought, every essence of her dream out of her head. She took a deep breath and slowly walked into the warehouse.

He was there when she arrived; she had known that he would be, he almost always was. She paused when she saw him. He had taken off his jacket, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his tie was loosened.

As she got closer she could see that his top buttons were unbuttoned, exposing enough of his chest to give her an idea of what he really looked like, while leaving just enough to her imagination. She swallowed.

It suddenly seemed to become hotter and without thinking, Sydney took off her sweater. Vaughn looked up as she approached, and smiled. Damn, he looked good when he smiled. Well, he looked good all the time, but when he smiled…She wanted to melt, and it wasn't because of the oppressive heat.

The gate was open, and Sydney walked inside and put her sweater and purse down on a crate. Vaughn was across the room. He seemed so far away, but Sydney thought it would probably be a good idea if he stayed there.

"Hey," he said, still smiling.

"Hi," Sydney answered, without grinning back. There was a long and awkward pause. Sydney decided that it would be better if she kept her mouth shut, lest she give word to the thoughts that were running through her head.

"So," Vaughn began, after a moment, "How was the mission?"

"Alright." She could feel the perspiration dripping down her back, and she shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the heat.

"Anything happen out of the ordinary? Any problems?"

Sydney closed her eyes. She could picture herself being flung down the stairs, bumping and jolting down each and every cold concrete step. God it had hurt like hell…

"No. Nothing."

"Okay…" Vaughn ran his hand through his hair and she could tell that he was confused. She had never acted this way toward him before.

"Did you get to speak French?" He asked after a moment, deciding to try and change the subject.

"Yes," Sydney answered mechanically.

His voice whispering in her ear, telling her in his native tongue how much he loved her. She closed her eyes as two words repeated over and over in her head, echoing softly and seeming to drift further and further away. Room service, room service, room service…

She opened her eyes again; he was frowning, and she decided she had better elaborate a little. "With a German accent of course. It was…interesting."

She offered him a smile, showing pearly white teeth and dimples, hoping he couldn't tell the smile was her fake one. Francie and Will hadn't discovered that yet, and she had been using it on them for years.

But Vaughn frowned again. He wasn't buying it; he knew something was wrong, and that thought made Sydney's heart leap with joy and break in half at the same time. This man knew so much about her; and he was probably the one man she could not have.

"Sydney?" Vaughn asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Short answers again, voice clipped and unnatural.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. I'm just tired." She even yawned for effect and stretched a little, trying not to wince with the pain it caused her.

"Okay…Are you sure?" 

Why did he have to be so concerned? He was making this much more difficult.

"Uh huh," Sydney nodded. "It was a long flight." She reached a hand up mechanically and began twirling and twisting her hair between her fingers.

"No, I mean are you sure you're okay?" He was trying to hide it; but she could see that he was worried. His forehead was crinkled, his eyes dripped with concern.

"Yeah. I'm just tired and I have a lot on my mind. I'm sorry that I'm…"

"What's bothering you?" Vaughn interrupted her.

"Oh, nothing really. I'm just thinking about…well, just stuff. You know, the mission, the flight, a dream I had. All kinds of stuff."

"Was it good?"

"What, the flight? No, not really." It was the flight from hell.

"No, the dream."

Sydney looked at him quickly, her eyes questioning. Then she looked away; she could feel the blood rising to her face, and was glad it was dark in the warehouse. At this distance, it prevented him from seeing that her already rosy cheeks were turning a very unladylike fire engine red. "Yeah…no…well, kind of…"

She could see images flashing before her eyes, like fireworks and lightning; flashing and threatening, mixing her dreams, the one that could never happen and the one that she never wanted to, turning them into a vicious nightmare.

"Why are you asking me this?" She asked, giving words to the little voice in the back of her head.

"I'm just concerned. And we never really get to talk…"

And we never will, that's just he way it goes. Damn fate. Damn destiny. Damn fairy tales, there is no happily ever after.

"Is it warm in here, or is it just me?" She asked, quickly changing the subject.

"It is kind of hot in here," Vaughn answered, pushing his sleeves up even more.

Sydney shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes trained on her feet. "I…I got the documents, the book, I mean." She reached into her purse and held it up.

"Good," Vaughn responded, and then held out his hand. "I'll give it to Devlin."

She walked over to him and reached out to hand him the book. "Here, I…"

"God, Syd!" Vaughn interrupted her. "What happened to your arm?" He took the book with one hand and placed it on the crate behind him. He reached out to take her elbow with the other, but she quickly backed away, holding her arm behind her.

She almost tripped as she backed away, but stopped before she fell over. Her arm still held behind her back, she stared down at her shoes, feeling like a little kid who had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Dammit, the bruise. She shouldn't have taken off the sweater. That's why she'd worn it in the first place.

"Oh that," She glanced casually at her arm. "Some guy threw me down the stairs."

Vaughn's eyes flashed with anger. "I thought you said you didn't have any problems!" He clenched his fists tightly, turning his knuckles white.

If she had a different handler, would they be this upset when she got hurt?

She shrugged. "It wasn't a problem…really. I took care of him."

"You should have told me."

"Why?" She asked, almost adding, "Could you have prevented it? Would you have been able to make it better?"

But she didn't. Instead she bit her bottom lip and kept her mouth shut, occupying herself by digging the toe of her shoe into a crack on the floor.

"I don't know. It's important to me to know about you," he answered, and added quickly, "And to the CIA of course.

Sydney didn't respond. She didn't know what to say.

Vaughn motioned to her and patted the space on the crate beside him. "Come here. I want to make sure you're okay."

Sydney shook her head. "I'm fine…"

"Did he hurt you anywhere else? Did you hit your head?"

"No. I'm okay, I promise…"

"Just come here," Vaughn commanded, sighing. When Sydney didn't move, he stood up and walked over to her.

She didn't back away this time. She didn't want to, hadn't wanted to the first time.

He gently took her arm and she shivered at his touch. It took her breath away and she struggled to get it back without making it obvious.

Vaughn seemed oblivious to her rapid breathing and fluttering heartbeat. His fingers were still resting on her arm. "This is a really nasty bruise. Did you put ice on it?"

She shook her head. It was all she could do to answer him.

"You should have…I bet it really hurts."

"There are some things that hurt worse, " Sydney thought. She closed her eyes, trying to keep the tears from spilling over.

Vaughn was running his fingers lightly up and down her arm, outlining the bruise, and giving her goosebumps.

God, it was déjà vu. It wasn't real…It couldn't be…

"Vaughn…" Sydney finally managed to whisper. "Pinch me."

"What?…" He laughed softly, and moved closer to her. "Why?"

Sydney shook her head and looked away. She couldn't…

Vaughn took her face in his hands, tilting her head up so her eyes met his. She gasped when she saw it. The passion, the love, the desire, burning in his eyes. Oh God…

"I have a better idea," he whispered, as he lowered his head to hers.


	3. Part III

Room Service

Part III

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Yes, I know it's been forever. But there were still some of you who were nice enough to review even after it hadn't been updated for so long, and I wasn't going to add anymore, but I hated leaving it unfinished. So, although there is probably no one who remembers what happened (_I_ had to read the first parts over again…), here's the end. Sorry it took so long, but better late than never, right?…

~~~

This couldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. Oh God, it was happening, and she still couldn't believe it. No, it wasn't, it couldn't be. It just couldn't be true…

He was so close, his breath was mixing with hers. They were breathing each other's air, essentially breathing in each other. Sydney had never taken such a crystal-clear and soothing breath in all her life. But it was too good to be true, it had to be…

"You do?" she asked, finally responding to his statement, her voice so low it was barely perceptible, her face so close to his that he probably felt the vibration of the words better than he heard them.

Sydney knew what she thought was happening, what she wanted to happen more than anything in the world. But she feigned innocence. She wished she could stop time, freeze the moment right there with his lips so close to hers. She would be able to handle not knowing exactly what would have happened between the two of them as long as this moment would never end, as long as in her dreams, it turned out exactly as she wished it would instead of disappointing her.

"Yeah," he answered softly, pulling back a bit and grinning at her. She knew he could see the swift rise and fall of her chest, her heart pounding on her ribs, jumping against her skin. "I think you know."

Sydney shook her head. She wanted to be certain. She wanted to draw him to action, to hear him say the words. She knew what was said about people who assume, and was not about to take that chance. Not with this. Not with him. Not on her life.

His grin turned sheepish, his face flushed pink, and he started to back away. She knew he was thinking that he had read her wrong, had crossed the signals, had screwed up; was considering that maybe she really didn't want this, didn't want him, after all.

But she did. Oh God, she did…

This was not something dangerous or life-threatening, but Sydney was afraid to act. If Vaughn had been trying to attack her, she would have been able to counter it without thinking, but this… Even minus the risk of sudden death or disfigurement, this seemed like the most important, the most difficult moment in her entire life.

She knew that if she didn't act, she would lose him, she would lose it all. Forever. Blown away like a puff of smoke in the afternoon breeze. Never to be seen again.

And on a whim she took his hand, pulling him back. It seems that some things, some of the best things, don't happen after careful planning and consideration. Some moments and actions would be lost without spontaneity, would be lost if people weren't willing to take a chance.

"Tell me," she murmured, the words barely finding their way past her suddenly parched lips. She had forgotten about the ever-rising temperature in the warehouse, the stifling heat that had caused all this in the first place. It came rushing back to her now, igniting her further.

He glanced at her questioningly, his free hand running nervously through his hair. The two of them were no longer agents of the CIA, or even adults. They were two gawky teenagers realizing for the first time that the person they had been glancing at across the cafeteria since the beginning of the year actually did like them.

But Vaughn still hesitated, even after her words. She knew that he didn't want to draw her to any unwanted actions, didn't want to force her into something she would later regret. His suave, carefree attitude had melted away with her insecurities. She should have known that it would happen this way.

"I want…" she whispered, unsure of what her next words should be.

_…you to tell me.__ …you to show me… you to want me… I want…_

"… you."

There was no other way to put it. No other way that was right. She needed him more than the bones that were just barely doing their job of holding her up; more than the oxygen that filled her lungs with each shaky breath; more than the blood that coursed through her veins, giving her life. 

And that was all the encouragement he needed. All his reservations melted away, as he leaned in to her again, parting his lips to speak. But his statement never came; he couldn't seem to find his voice.

Sydney had never been sure exactly what to think of the phrase, "Actions speak louder than words." Of course, there were actions she knew that could bring a quick end to any conversation, but words could be harsh and biting as well. Sometimes even more than a well-placed kick, although there aren't many who will admit to it.

But today, at that moment, she knew that what they said was true. His words, had he been able to find them, would have been barely more than a whisper. But his kiss was screaming; thundering in her ears, echoing throughout the warehouse, deafening her to everything else.

All his shyness was gone as suddenly as it had sprung up, replaced with the confidence and burning desire she had seen earlier. And she liked it; this side of him that she had never gotten to see before, that she had never thought she would.

His hands were combing through her hair, tangling it hopelessly. But having to painstakingly tackle her way through the knots later would be more than worth it. She would have given anything to have this, absolutely anything at all.

She couldn't think straight, couldn't move. But something inside her shrieked at her to respond, and she obeyed gladly, moving with him against him until she couldn't remember ever touching anyone or anything but him. And the only coherent thought that made itself known inside her head, was that if she died and went to heaven, it would be like this.

All too soon, Vaughn pulled away and smiled at her. He suddenly appeared shy again, and for a second she thought she would have to yank him back toward her and ravish him in order for the events of just moments before to be repeated. But despite his bashful look, his hands were roaming all over her body, caressing her neck, her back, her waist…

"I've been wanting…" he gasped, still grinning at her, "… to do that for so long..."

"Then why'd you stop?" she asked breathlessly, pulling him back to her.

This kiss was sweeter than the first, something to be enjoyed and savored, not hurried through. Strawberries and cream on a hot summer's day. The fire and passion was still there, but dulled by something more, something that she was scared to give a name to for fear that that alone would frighten it away.

They pulled back together, not as desperate for air this time, the words easier to utter, but still difficult to find.

"Sydney, I… I don't even know what to say…"

"I know."

"Incredible."

"I know."

She was sure that her smile was so wide that she looked ridiculous, that her face would explode. She knew that the heat had more than likely rendered her face a bright, unattractive red. Add to that the bruises that were scattered over her skin, and she must have looked like some kind of circus freak.

But although Vaughn was looking at her, he hadn't noticed any of that. He looked past it, through it, beyond it. He saw only her.

"You are _so_ beautiful."

"Not like this," she whispered; her voice wouldn't go any louder. There had to be something to this. It was some kind of cruel joke; someone would pop out and yell, 'April Fool's!' Good things like thi… No, _great_ things like this… They just never happened to her.

"Yes. Even like that."

She was melting, at first just from looking at him and hearing his voice, but then because of something else. Everything swam before her eyes, as if she had suddenly been thrown into a pool of murky water. She needed to hold onto him for support, to keep her from going under, so she could still gasp for breath.

_Clunk!_

"Syd, are you sure you're okay?" he asked softly, still supporting her with one arm, but brushing the fingers of the other gently over her bruises. "Are you sure that you didn't…"

_Clunk!_

"…hit your head when you fell?"

His eyes swam into focus, and she could see the concern that lingered there. But as the world continued to jump in and out of focus, she suddenly wasn't so sure. She could have sworn last night that her head had been fine, that she had been able to shield it and it was the only part of her body that she had _not_ bruised, but…

_Clunk!_

"Syd?"

_Clunk!_

"Vaughn, I…"

_Clunk!_

Each one was jolting her now, and before she had a chance to think, she was falling out of his grasp. Vaughn reached for her, but she slipped through his fingers, watching as he disappeared…

She jumped awake, gripping the armrests and scaring the hell out of the very antisocial man next to her. He nearly threw his book in the air, but quickly settled back into his seat, glaring at her and returning to his novel with an added fervor.

"Bad dream?"

It was Dixon. He was still sitting calmly next to her. They were still on the airplane, flying back from France. She sighed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She was still bruised and battered. She still didn't have Vaughn.

_Clunk!_

And Kevin Andrew Donaldson was still kicking the back of her chair.

Dixon was watching her expectantly, waiting for an answer. "Yeah," she responded. And it was true enough, it _had_ only been a dream after all, and that's what had made it bad.

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, but almost immediately snapped them open again. She would have to see Vaughn today, and whether it was because she didn't want to be teased with another dream, or she didn't think she could face him if it happened once more, she vowed not to close her eyes again. At least not until later that night…

~~~

The End


End file.
